presenting him to his lady. But the pair were not to be entirely balked
of their romance, and they still arranged stolen interviews at church,
where one furtively whispered word had the value of whole hours of
unrestricted converse under the roof of their friends. They quite
refused to take advantage of their anomalously easy relations, beyond
inquiry on his part as to the amount of the lady's dower, and on hers as
to the permanence of Tonelli's employment. He in due form had Pennellini
to his confidant, and Carlotta unbosomed herself to her hostess; and the
affair was thus conducted with such secrecy that not more than two
thirds of Tonelli's acquaintance knew anything about it when their
engagement was announced.

There were now no circumstances to prevent their early union, yet the
happy conclusion was one to which Tonelli urged himself after many
secret and bitter displeasures of spirit. I am persuaded that his love
for Carlotta must have been most ardent and sincere, for there was
everything in his history and reason against marriage. He could not
disown that he had hitherto led a joyous and careless life, or that he
was exactly fitted for the modest delights, the discreet variety, of his
present state,--for his daily routine at the notary's, his dinner at the
Bronze Horses or the cook-shop, his hour at the caffe, his walks and
excursions, for his holiday banquet with the Cenarotti, and his formal
promenade with the ladies of that family upon the Molo. He had a good
employment, with a salary that held him above want, and afforded him the
small luxuries already named; and he had fixed habits of work and of
relaxation, which made both a blessing. He had his chosen circle of
intimate equals, who regarded him for his good-heartedness and wit and
foibles; and his little following of humble admirers, who looked upon
him as a gifted man in disgrace with fortune. His friendships were as
old as they were secure and cordial; he was established in the
kindliness of all who knew him; and he was flattered by the dependence
of the Paronsina and her mother, even when it was troublesome to him.
He had his past of sentiment and war, his present of story-telling and
romance. He was quite independent: his sins, if he had any, began and
ended in himself, for none was united to him so closely as to be hurt by
them; and he was far too imprudent a man to be taken for an example by
any one. He came and went as he listed, he did this or tha